


Gear Garden

by sigurfox



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angband, M/M, North, Poetry, idk it's vague, industrial aesthetic, it's got sometimes internal rhymes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-15 23:18:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16073456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sigurfox/pseuds/sigurfox
Summary: A garden of the iron vowsWith nature’s fervency embows.Precise mechanic paradiseFor Melkor and His Sacrifice.





	Gear Garden

What did you see? Those seeds of crime…

What bitter fruit of troubled time

Rots under Arda’s winter swathe.

Their fragile Faith, pledge of a liar,

As pale as Tilion’s attire,

Died out. This life, wise Weeper’s temple,

Lauds mental grandeur of the myth.

But age of virtue vanished with

Last droplets from the bleeding Lamps.  

 

A garden of the iron vows

With nature’s fervency embows.

Precise mechanic paradise

For Melkor and His Sacrifice.

His luscious labour thus invents

New style, new taste for the unchaste,

Adapted merits of the night

By Lord’s bylaw made sanctified.

 

So low a call, in luring toils

To His magnetic net, uncoils.

Oh march, machinery, tick tock,

Sedate staccato, puffs of smoke,

Dense thudding, thunder, creaks of cogs,

The clink of newborn blades… The songs

Of nowadays on maia’s lips –

A moan, a scream – fall right within

This pulse. And golden eyes eclipse.

 

Black fist inside a cage of ribs.

The heart afire flutters, weeps.

The wires of His ode enwreathe 

Like lovely ivy, metal withe.

The deepest chamber hums alive.

Industrious drums beneath this hive

Hail vivid grim Thangorodrim.

A realm of Nightmare and of Dream.

The great abyss where solemn peace

Reigns over spirits, when above

Snowstorms consume the lost, enrough

The foolish souls into decease.

 

Young Mairon long ago at will

Here fell bespelled when first beheld

Carved on the cliff a glowing glyph,

A field of frost. So still it was,

As if to canvases confined

By talent of true mastermind.

His love invisible to all

Will drive onward the wary world

Until the mercy of the One

Prevails, and destiny is done.

 


End file.
